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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159424">The Dark of Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanceLikeAnArchitect/pseuds/DanceLikeAnArchitect'>DanceLikeAnArchitect</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Inspector Morse &amp; Related Fandoms, Inspector Morse (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Possibly Pre-Slash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:33:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanceLikeAnArchitect/pseuds/DanceLikeAnArchitect</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just after Promised Land. Morse and Lewis only feel safe being honest with each other during the dark of night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Robert Lewis &amp; Inspector Morse, Robert Lewis/Inspector Morse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Dark of Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This could be considered pre-slash if you have your shipping goggles on. Also, I'm definitely not British, so please forgive any missing brit-picks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Hot, beating sun, a dry hot wind, and the scent of dust on the air. Lewis blinked, crouched behind the low embankment in the abandoned railroad complex, listening to the sound of Morse’s footsteps across the gravel. The sound of Morse leaving him behind as he went to face a dangerous madman alone. Lewis’s pulse beat fast in his own ears, and the nauseating, choking sensation of fear clawed at his insides, making it hard to breathe. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Then, a gunshot. Lewis’s heart seemed to stop in his chest. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The scene jumped forward. He was sprinting across the dry ground, running for the prone figure slumped on the abandoned railroad tracks. His breath burned in his lungs, and the hot sun burned down on his back as he threw himself to the ground next to the still figure, roughly turning him over with panicked hands. The figure was Morse. His impossibly blue eyes were open, blank and staring without seeing. His chest was a mess of blood, blood that Lewis could feel smearing shockingly wet across his palms. Despite the burning heat, Lewis felt icy cold dread and disbelief worming its way through his body. “No, no, sir, please,” he muttered, reaching to feel for Morse’s strong and steady pulse at his neck. Instead, he found only stillness. “Sir, please, wake up, wake up!” Lewis shook his guv’s shoulders gently, then roughly. Morse remained limp and still. “Sir, please, please wake up…please don’t go…” Certainty of the impossible reality was beginning to form at the back of Lewis’s mind, like a train barreling unstoppably along the tracks. Lewis placed his palm flat to Morse’s horribly bloody chest. There was no heartbeat. The silence struck Lewis then, all-consuming and impossible to ignore. No sound, no life, just the rustle of the hot, burning wind through the dry grass. Lewis could not breathe, could not think. This could not be happening. “Sir!” he screamed in desperation. But Morse had gone where Lewis could not call him back.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>With a sound halfway between a gasp and a scream, Lewis’s eyes flew open. His heart was still pounding in his chest, his breathing erratic and shallow. It took him several seconds to remember where he was. A blank, pale ceiling, generically bland pieces of art on the walls. An orange glow from the street outside the curtained window. And Morse, lying with his legs crossed and his hands behind his head on the next bed over, his sharp profile illuminated softly by the warm glow of the streetlights outside. Australia. They were in the hotel room in Australia. He would be driving Morse to the airport in the morning, and picking up Val to enjoy their holiday.</p><p>Lewis felt his breath slowly returning to a normal pace as he drank in the sight of Morse’s profile, lying unharmed next to him. Morse’s chest rose and fell softly with each quiet breath. He could see from a small glint of light that Morse’s eyes were open. He was gazing unblinkingly at the ceiling. When he spoke softly, Lewis started. “Are you alright, Lewis?”</p><p>Lewis sat up in the creaky hotel bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. God, that was embarrassing. He’d woken Morse up with his nightmares. He spoke into his hands rather than face the power of those blue eyes. “Yeah, I think so sir. I’m sorry to have woken you.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize, Lewis. I was already awake,” came the surprisingly gentle reply. Lewis raised his head from his hands and glanced up. Morse still lay atop his covers, gazing pensively at the ceiling. Perhaps it was a trick of the low lighting, but to Lewis, his eyes looked oddly bright. His expression was brittle, as though it would shatter at any moment. Morse was awake thinking about the case, Lewis imagined. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. He knew Morse was deeply hurt by this case, and by the realization that he had sent an innocent man to die in prison. Lewis wished he could say something to comfort his guv, but could not think of anything that would not sound hollow or embarrassing. Instead, Lewis rose slowly to his feet, padding across the room to find a glass of water. As he turned away from Morse to drink deeply, the image of Morse’s still, dead face from the nightmare flashed across his mind again, and he had to repress a shudder. After draining the glass, Lewis returned to his bed and slid carefully back under the covers. Still embarrassed by the situation, he tried to coax his mind back to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, however, he was presented afresh with the horrific images from his nightmares. He’d been having similar nightmares every night since the standoff on the railroad tracks. All of them featured Morse dead or dying, and Lewis powerless to save him. What felt like hours passed by with Lewis lying awake, terrified to close his eyes lest he be plunged back into the nightmare world. The lack of Morse’s usual snores meant that he, too, was lying awake.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, after what felt like an eternity of stillness, Lewis whispered into the semi-darkness. “Sir? Sir, are you awake?”</p><p>Lewis heard a deep sigh from the next bed. “Yes, I am, Lewis. I can’t sleep. Nor can you, evidently.”</p><p>Lewis closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to fight the unidentifiable pain and tension that were gnawing at his insides. Then he opened his eyes, turning his head on his pillow to look at Morse. His chief still lay with legs crossed and arms behind his head, regarding the ceiling with the same grave, sad stare as before.</p><p>“Everything alright, sir?” He knew the question was stupid—of course things weren’t alright—but he couldn’t think of what else to say.</p><p>Another deep sigh from the opposite bed. Then Morse replied softly. “No, not really, Lewis. I can’t stop thinking about all the damage I’ve caused. I wish we’d never come here.”</p><p>Lewis blinked at Morse, feeling an intense rush of sympathy.</p><p>“You couldn’t have known, sir.”</p><p>“Couldn’t I, Lewis?” replied Morse bitterly. “We’re coppers, it’s our job to know. It’s our job to serve justice, not to send innocent men to die in prison.”</p><p>Morse’s tone exposed a depth of pain and self-disgust that made Lewis wince. Morse was the best inspector Lewis had ever known—how could he be so hard on himself?</p><p>“…Even coppers make mistakes sometimes, sir,” replied Lewis softly. “Even the best of us.”</p><p>“Peter Matthews <em>died </em>for my mistake, Lewis. Peter Matthews, his brother, Kenny Stone, Scott Humphries…” Morse broke off, swallowing thickly. “I never thought I’d be responsible for so many deaths,” he whispered.</p><p>“But, sir, it’s not your fault!” Lewis cried. He wished he could somehow make his guv understand. “You didn’t make Anne and Kenny frame Matthews, you didn’t make his brother come after them!” Lewis paused, then continued more quietly. “It’s not your fault, sir. It’s theirs, all theirs. You risked your life to put things right.”</p><p>“….I didn’t end up putting things right, did I, though?” Morse’s voice was a sad and broken whisper.</p><p>“You saved the girl, sir. I count that as something right.”</p><p>“Thank you, Lewis.” Lewis could hear the hint of a grateful smile in Morse’s voice, even though the darkness of the room effectively hid his facial expression.</p><p>The silent darkness wrapped around them for several seconds before Lewis plucked up the nerve to ask another question. “…were you scared, sir? Facing Matthews?”</p><p>A pause, then “…no, Lewis, I wasn’t. Not as scared as I should have been, at any rate.” Morse sighed. “All I could think was that I had to put things <em>right</em>, somehow, or I wouldn’t be able to live with my own guilt. My fear of dying was far from my mind.”</p><p>“I was scared.” The words were out of Lewis’s mouth before he could stop them, whispered to the welcoming silence of the night. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Morse move at last, rolling onto his side and propping his chin on his hand to better observe Lewis. The silence stretched for long seconds, long enough for Lewis to become aware that his eyes and throat were burning with unshed tears.</p><p>“Why were you scared, Lewis?” Morse asked finally in a soft, low rumble.</p><p>“I… I thought I’d lost you,” whispered Lewis, not trusting his voice to remain steady enough for speech. “When… When I heard the gunshot, I thought… I thought….” To his horror, Lewis found that his throat was too tight to continue. He bit his lip, hard, but try as he might he couldn’t keep a few tears from escaping his eyes to run down his cheeks. He’d been bottling it up for days now, all the fear and anxiety and worry and <em>what if </em>that kept haunting him in his dreams, every time he closed his eyes. He turned his head away from Morse, embarrassed, hoping the latter had not seen.</p><p>“Oh, Lewis…” Lewis heard a creak of bedsprings as Morse stood, the soft shuffling noise of his footfalls across the carpet, then felt his weight settle on the edge of the mattress. Lewis hastily swiped his hands across his face, trying to hide the evidence of his tears. “I’m sorry, sir,” he mumbled, afraid to turn his face to Morse’s lest he see anger there. To his surprise, however, he felt Morse’s warm, strong hand grip his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Don’t be sorry, Lewis,” Morse whispered gruffly. He paused, on the verge of saying more, but could not seem to gather his thoughts. Lewis sat up, swinging his legs out of bed so that he was sitting side by side with his chief. For a long moment the two men sat together in the silence and the darkness, taking comfort in each other’s presence. Although they could never admit their fears under the harsh, burning light of day, the darkness made it easier to share their secrets.</p><p>Morse took a deep breath, paused, and then began again. “Never apologize for being afraid, Lewis. Fear… fear is part of our job, sadly. There will always be situations that make us afraid. The true test of our characters is whether we run from the fear, or whether we rise to face it.” Morse gave half a smile, and gently patted Robbie’s knee. “You’re a good man, Lewis. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been one to face fear head on.”</p><p>Lewis smiled at the unexpected compliment. For someone who claimed he didn’t understand human nature, Morse was quite good at cheering a fellow up. Silence fell again between them, Morse’s hand still softly resting on Robbie’s knee. After a moment Morse bowed his head, closing his eyes tightly. The hand on Lewis’s knee tensed for a moment, a touch full of inexpressible feelings of uncertainty and gratitude. A touch that said <em>‘I’m sorry I can’t protect you from the fear.’ </em>A touch that also said ‘<em>thank you for caring enough to be afraid</em>.’ Then Morse released him, standing up to walk back to his side of the room. Although Morse didn’t have the right words to articulate it, Robbie somehow understood what he was trying to say.</p><p>Morse lay back down on his bed, resuming his previous contemplative position. “You should sleep, Lewis,” he said, turning his head to glance at his sergeant. “You have a holiday to enjoy tomorrow. And I need you awake to drive me to the airport!”</p><p>Lewis smiled to himself. “Right, sir,” he replied, sliding his legs back under the covers. This time when he closed his eyes, he remembered the feeling of Morse’s hand on his shoulder, and the gratitude that he had expressed without words. It was good to know that Morse cared, too.</p><p> </p><p>Even after Lewis’s low, even breathing has filled the silent darkness, Morse lay awake on his bed, thinking through the case. Lewis’s words echoed quietly in his head. <em>You blame yourself too much, you know that? Even coppers make mistakes sometimes. I count that as something right. </em> Of course, he’d never admit it, but it touched him deeply that Lewis valued him so highly. Valued both his ability as a policeman and his friendship. Guiltily, Morse found that he did not terribly mind that Lewis had been scared for him. He knew with absolute certainty that, if the roles had been reversed, Morse would have been terrified for Lewis. Perhaps that was the true privilege of seniority, Morse reflected. As Lewis’s superior, Morse could order him to stay safe. He could always get away with valuing Lewis’s life more highly than his own. With a wry smile, Morse thought that, now, after all these years, he was finally starting to understand Fred Thursday a little more.</p><p>Morse knew from long experience that he would be haunted by this case for a long while yet. But tonight, thanks to Lewis, he thought that he’d begun to put the past behind him.</p><p>A change in Lewis’s breathing caused Morse to turn to look at his sergeant. Lewis’s breath had become uneven and shallow again, and he frowned deeply in his sleep, clearly agitated by his dreams. Morse rose and walked to Lewis’s side, observing his sleeping face. <em>More nightmares</em> thought Morse. Tenderly, Morse reached out to stroke the hair back from Lewis’s forehead. Lewis seemed to relax slightly at the gentle touch, so Morse continued the gesture until his sergeant’s breathing had evened out again. With a sigh, Morse straightened to return to his own bed. The darkness of the night wrapped softly around both of them, gently easing the weight of fear and guilt. It would take a long time for them both to recover from the ordeal Australia had inflicted upon them. But, Morse thought, they’ll recover eventually.</p>
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